Going Home?
by mugglekool
Summary: Tom and Harry. In a corridor.


Harry Potter fingered the time-turner carefully. Dumbledore had _finally _managed to procure one for him. Just thinking about going back home made him giddy. He had been stuck here for three months now, and he missed Ron and Hermione terribly.

"Harry," a voice said from the other end of the corridor. He hastily shoved the time-turner under his shirt and straightened his tie. Turning smoothly, his gaze fell on the last person he wanted to see. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

_Oh no. Not now._ After finding himself stuck in this time, he had tried to get to know Riddle, even letting the Sorting Hat put him in Slytherin. Riddle wasn't as…_evil_ as Harry had expected him to be. For a while, he had toyed with the idea of reforming – _trying_ to reform – Riddle, but he remembered what Hermione had told him back in third year and what Dumbledore had told him a mere month ago. The message was clear: _don't _ mess with time, or else bad things _will_ happen to you. Harry was pretty sure that being in this era pretty much counted as 'messing with time' but since there was nothing to do about it, he had tried not to worry. Dumbledore would get him a time-turner and he would go back to his own time and everyone would be just the way he remembered them and everything would be fine. But if Tom found out that he was currently in possession of a time turner…Harry quashed that thought. No thinking about time-turners or time or_anything_ of the sort while he was in close proximity to the young dark lord.

"Tom."

Harry allowed a small smile to grace his features, attempting to project utter calm.

Tom grinned at him wolfishly.

Harry gulped.

"Headmaster Dippet sends word. He would like to see you in his office after supper."

"Okay," Harry nodded and attempted to walk past Tom when his wrist was grabbed by slender fingers that ended in sharp nails piercing his skin.

"You were headed the other way," Tom said, his head tilting to one side.

Oops. "Right. Yeah. Sorry. Got confused for a moment there." Harry gave a sheepish grin and attempted to pull away, only for the grip on his wrist to tighten. Why hadn't he turned around and walked away? What had he been thinking? Stupid Harry.

All too soon, Tom had him pushed up against a wall.

"What are you hiding from me Harry?" Tom's voice was low, dangerous.

"Nothing," Harry replied as calmly as he could. Thinking about the time-turner was a definite no, so he concentrated on the pain that was emanating from his right wrist. Tom's grip loosened slightly at that, but still held him firmly.

"Come now Harry," Tom drawled. "You know that lying to me is futile, so why don't you just _tell me the truth._" That last past was hissed into his ear, making his hair stand on end.

Harry couldn't help himself.

He panicked.

Tom's fingers were toying with his tie, and he could feel Tom's breath ghosting across his lips.

The part of his mind that was still thinking rationally told him that he wouldn't. Tom _hated_ human contact in any form, and even though he seemed to be different with Harry they were in the middle of a corridor, for Merlin's sake what if somebody _saw_ them like this –

Harry forced himself to steady his breath. "This really is inappropriate," he said, trying to make his voice as cold as possible, but it came out breathless and only made Tom chuckle. His head was spinning. _Why was Tom doing this?_ His tie was loosened now and the collar of his shirt fell away to expose his throat. He fought the urge to gulp and suppressed a wince as fingers traced his collarbone. Before he knew what was happening, those fingers had taken a firm hold of the time-turner around his neck and pulled. Hard. The delicate golden chain snapped like a thread. He drew his wand in a heartbeat but the force of Tom's disarming spell smashed him back into the wall and he heard his wand clatter as it hit the floor, three metres away from him.

Harry lay there, winded and unable to stand up. Not like standing up would have been of much use. Tom would just push him down again. He saw the boy in question looking down at him with amusement before he turned and walked away, Harry's ticket home carefully tucked into the pocket of his robes. Bloody hell. Tom was _always _like this.


End file.
